The last Sunday of a long vacation before going back to work.
I do not grieve for my ending vacation. I simply acknowledge the time I was afforded felt immeasurably small. How can you count a vacation to celebrate life in moments like days or weeks? No. I want to see how many baby smiles I got before having to clock in for another shift. I want to know how many mL of baby piss I carried away in filled diapers. I want to know how many times I kissed my boy, what time of day each kiss was, and how loving the kiss was.
I do not grieve having to go back to work—I grieve having to measure pleasure as when one timeline ends and another begins.